The Aftermath
by i-love-svu
Summary: The Aftermath of Lady Heather's actions in 'Pirates of the Third Reich'. GilLady H
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I am simply using the characters to write a fanfic. **

**Summary: Heather's life seems to have diminished before her eyes. Her daughter is dead, she nearly whipped a man to death. Can things get better with Gil there? Gil/Lady H **

**Author's Note: I've been thinking about writing this for a long time and just now got around to it. Hopefully it's worth reading. **

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Heather sat wordlessly on the stairs leading to the second floor of her dominion.

No sounds came from any part of the large house. Usually shrieks or cries of pain echoed throughout the halls, but not tonight. She had given all of the girls permission to leave. She needed to be alone. For how long was undetermined.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, trying to hold back all the pain and tears.

Her brown hair stuck to her pale cheeks. Tears stains were almost noticeable but not unless you were looking for imperfections. And on a face so lovely, who would be doing such a thing?

The doorbell rang twice, the sound making her jump. She shivered and realized she was cold.

Visitors didn't appeal to the dominatrix. No one else understood the agony she felt inside.

Three knocks came from the door. The person on the other side was insistent on seeing her.

She stood up and slowly walked up the stairs, the knocking continued behind her.

"Go away!" She shouted.

Nothing could comfort her right now. She needed to be alone.

More knocks came from the door. Followed by, "Heather! Open the door! It's Grissom!"

She had known who it was all along; No one else had come to visit her. Not even her closest friends.

With a heavy sigh she became aware that he was the only one who cared. No one else was willing to stay with her during this tragic time. She had to accept any help he was offering.

The night before, Lady Heather Kessler had whipped Johann Wolfowitz. She had severely injured him, to the point where he would staying in the hospital for a few weeks and then would need physical therapy to regain his ability to walk. Gil had stopped her; He had pulled the whip away from her, then had held her while she sobbed.

Now he was there, at the dominion.

"Heather! Please let me in!"

With a sigh, Heather walked down the stairs to the door. She unfastened the locks and opened it. She stepped to the side to allow him room to step in; After a moment, Gil walked into the empty house.

"How are you holding up?" He inquired.

Heather shrugged. She didn't feel so well; To say she was feeling shitty would be an exaggeration. But she couldn't let Gil know that, so the shrug was her answer, for if she tried to speak an endless stream of tears would begin. And she couldn't allow him to see her like that again.

"Do you need anything? I'll make you dinner if you'd like," Gil offered.

"I'm not hungry," Heather replied, swallowing hard to keep her tears back. She walked away from Gil and out onto the large patio. Just outside of the double doors, a slight breeze greeted the dominatrix. Her hair blew gently in the wind as she continued walking; Her pace was slow but steady as she strode toward one of the chairs on the patio.

As Heather sat down in an elegant black iron chair, she crossed her legs then rested her right palm on her knee. She peeled back the white gauze bandage covering the injury, revealing the wound. The cut, nearly the entire width of her palm, had been acquired the previous night, most likely from holding the whip so tightly. It had taken nineteen stitches to close the abrasion and Heather had been instructed to keep gauze on it, to keep out infection. With diabetes, she was at risk to contract gangrene; But she knew as long as she took proper care of the wound, that was unlikely.

"How's your hand?" Gil interrupted Heather's surveyance of her injury.

"Fine," She retorted, placing the gauze back over it.

"Let me see."

Gil grabbed Heather's hand, not so hard it hurt but hard enough to make her look at him in surprise. He took the gauze off to examine her wound. Heather noticed his brows furrowed in concentration; He gently traced his finger alongside the cut, studying the stitches and her hand in general.

"It looks better than it did last night," He commented. Expressionless, he released her hand. Heather let it rest back on her knee again.

"Why are you here?"

Gil was silent. He pursed his lips as if ready to answer, but no words escaped. He thought for a moment. He wasn't even sure why he was at the dominion. A part of him felt he was there to check on Heather but yet another part felt he were there for something more. Something that couldn't be explained and was something he had never felt before.

"I don't know," He truthfully answered. "I guess I thought… that maybe you would need someone to talk to. About anything."

Heather studied Gil for a moment. He was offering to listen; Did she dare let herself fall for him again? Did she want to put herself into that position again?

With a sigh, her decision was final. "I do need someone to talk to."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the review!

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Gil nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

Heather closed her eyes with a sigh. It was going to be harder than she had thought; Recalling ever detail, every thought that had gone through her mind whilst deciding she was going to try to kill Johann Wolfowitz.

"I wanted him to pay for what he had done to me," She calmly began. Her voice was quiet and steady. "Zoe was so young; I don't understand why he killed her," Heather let out a shuddering breath.

Gil leaned forward in his seat. "Take your time."

Heather's eyes remained closed, her hand still resting on her knee. She recollected the prior evening in her mind for she wasn't ready to speak her thoughts.

_He had killed her daughter; He had to pay for that. Of course, revenge right away wasn't going to happen. Court takes times. Heather knew that, so she took matters into her own hands._

_With each crack of the whip, she felt more rage and repulsion. Each scream or moan fueled her need to seek vengeance. She wasn't growing tired as she continued to whip him; She felt unstoppable, and knew she would feel that way until he was injured beyond repair._

_Her right arm was slightly sore. She lowered it with an angry sigh; Her breathing was elevated but nothing she couldn't control. As Heather glanced back at the man tied to her vehicle, her arm suddenly didn't feel sore in the least. Her rage, once again, began to rise._

_Heather lashed the whip into his skin. After a few moments of repeating this, she felt warm tears sting her eyes. It was becoming clear; Zoe was dead, most likely along with her grandchild and yet the man who had killed them both was still alive._

_The tears fell down her cheeks as she continued to whip him. Just as Heather was about to finish Johann Wolfowitz off, Gil Grissom had showed up to stop her._

Heather opened her eyes quickly and blinked the thoughts away. Her breathing was extremely erratic, and Gil was kneeled beside her.

"Heather, you have to calm down," He instructed. Gil was holding her left hand in his with a determined and slightly shocked look upon his face. "Exhale when I squeeze your hand, alright?"

Heather focused on what he said. She felt him squeeze her hand and she exhaled slowly. Gil nodded; He counted to three in his head then squeezed her hand again. They repeated this until Heather's breathing was back to normal.

"Are you alright?" Gil asked. He was still kneeled beside her, her hand still held in his.

"I need to lie down," Heather whispered, fearing if she spoke any louder she would burst into tears.

Gil stood up and released her hand. She walked back into the house without saying anything else; Gil listened to the padding of her footsteps until they vanished from earshot. He then strode into the house and sat on the maroon colored couch in the parlor, awaiting the time when Heather would decide she needed to talk again.


	3. Chapter 3

Heather stared up at the ceiling to her bedroom. She studied the color, the painted design, anything and everything to take her mind off of the past week's events.

Her eyes fluttered as she recalled more things from the previous night. She didn't want to remember anything; She wished every thought, memory or feeling she could recollect from the previous week would vanish. Heather hated the feelings and thoughts. They, along with Zoe's death, had dramatically changed her and she hated it. She sighed angrily. The thoughts of her rage came back so fast it was almost sickening.

_Each time she lashed the whip into his skin, it signified her absolute hatred for the man bound to the vehicle. She couldn't describe the feeling; Never before had she hated someone so much that she actually wanted to kill him._

_She watched him gather his strength and try to break the ropes. When his hope was gone, Heather gritted her teeth and struck him again and again. Each hit was stronger and more rage fueled than the last. As the hour passed, his torso was covered in the bloody cuts; Some much deeper than the others. Heather took a step forward, driving the leather into his skin again. This time it hit his cheek; His blood curdling scream didn't even faze her. _

_Now, pure rage was pumping throughout her veins; Pulsing in tune with her heart. It was a very unusual feeling for the normally calm woman, but she didn't try to change how she felt. He had killed her daughter, and now, she was going to kill him._

Heather sat bolt upright with a loud gasp. She was breathing irregularly again and her hands were shaking horribly. With a sharp inhale, she attempted to calm herself. The effort was fruitless and she felt her heart rate increase.

It was a scary feeling to know that something she had done, and the aftermath of this event, had caused the panic attacks that occurred.

"Gil!" She tried to yell; Her voice didn't get very loud due to her erratic breathing, so she assumed he didn't hear her.

Heather pulled her knees to her chest in an attempt to stop the hyperventilating. She counted to three in her head, then exhaled. Nothing helped, causing her to feel more powerless and for her breathing to remain elevated.

A minute passed, but it felt like an hour to Heather. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears as her heart rate slowly increased even further.

At that moment, Gil burst into the room, his eyes wide with horror. Instantly he rushed to the bed to calm the panicking woman down.

"Heather, breathe, please," He pleaded. Heather's gasping breaths continued; It was out of her control.

"I… can't… breathe," She gasped.

Gil took her hand in his. "Just like we did earlier, remember? I'm right here and you'll be okay if you can just breathe," He gently calmed her.

He squeezed her hand as the number three left his lips. When Heather didn't breathe as they had earlier, he squeezed harder.

"Come on, honey," Gil was starting to slightly panic. He had to calm her down soon or he'd have to call an ambulance.

Heather looked up at Gil and knew that she had to do what he said in order for her breathing to return to normal. She inhaled as he squeezed her hand, then exhaled as he repeated the process.

Her breathing, and heart rate, slowly returned to normal. The two were silent, the only noise being the wind blowing roughly outside.

Heather glanced down at their hands. Their fingers were entwined, as though they were clinging onto something more than just the other's hand. With a hard swallow, she decided it wasn't worth it anymore. Holding her emotions inside had been part of the panic attacks.

A moment passed and suddenly, warm tears glistened on her cheeks. Gil didn't notice this at first; Not until a few sobs came from the woman sitting across from him.

"Heather? What's wrong?" He inquired. He reached up and placed his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb gently touching her chin. It was his way of comforting her, and she didn't mind it at all.

"I just need to let it go," Heather replied. She didn't explain any further, but it wasn't needed. Gil knew what she was talking about.

Stifling a sob, she collapsed into his arms. Gil moved the hand that had been on her neck to stroke her hair; Whilst he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders.

No words were exchanged. Gil understood Heather just needed to cry, and for someone to be there for her. He didn't mind just sitting there, comforting her.

Hours passed and finally, Heather picked her head up off of his shoulder. Her emerald eyes were glassy and red; Her cheeks were pale and her bottom lip was still trembling slightly.

Gil stood up from the bed. "I'll go make you some tea."

He started to walk away, but Heather reached out and grabbed his hand; He turned around, now facing her. She wiped away the tears still on her cheeks with her free hand before saying anything.

"Stay with me? Please; I don't want to be alone." Heather's voice was quiet and fragile.

Gil didn't even have to think about it. The answer as clear as the evening sky.

"I will," He replied softly. Gil back down on the bed. "I won't leave; I promise."

Heather stared into his deep blue eyes. It was evident in them that he did mean what he said. She moved to the edge of the bed and sat next to him for a moment before resting her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, and gently stroked her arm.

"I won't ever leave you again. I promise."


End file.
